oh, to be a chameleon
by controlled climb
Summary: There's something enchanting about chameleons. There's something there to envy. Or, at the very least, that's what Eames seems to think.


Written for the If You Dare Challenge on the HPFC.  
— Prompt & Prompt number: Chameleons, Prompt 230

* * *

Arthur frowns at the map. He has no idea where to start. The Reptile House? The Aviary? Big cats? He exhales. At this rate, he'll have to walk around the entire zoo before he finds Eames. Then again, it's not like he has any other choice, so he sets off.

He's almost tripped over ten children and been glared at by several angry parents before he finally finds Eames. The man is sitting on a wooden bench, staring into a glass case.

Arthur strides towards him, stopping when he's standing directly behind him.

"Chameleons?" he asks.

Eames chuckles. "Hm. Chameleons."

They stay in silence for a while, Eames seated on the bench, and Arthur behind him.

Arthur can't figure out what Eames is thinking, which is hardly news; Arthur can never figure out what Eames is thinking. Eames had left the warehouse in a huff earlier on, and Ariadne had nominated Arthur to find him. When Arthur had spluttered an indignant, "How am I supposed to know where he is?", Ariadne had simply raised her eyebrows and said, "The zoo, obviously. God, it's like you don't know him at all."

And so, Arthur's at the zoo. He's found Eames. Unfortunately, he doesn't know what's supposed to happen next. Improvisation has never been his strong point.

"Walking out isn't very professional," he ends up saying. Then he realises what he's just said and inwardly berates himself. Because, really? Is attacking Eames' lack of professionalism really the best thing to do right now?

Then again, Arthur is sort of curious. So, he presses the issue. "Why did you walk out?"

Eames sighs. "You won't like the answer."

"I still want to know it."

"You were frustrating me."

Arthur almost falls over in shock. "Pardon?"

"You kept..." Eames trails off with a flippant wave of his hand. "You were just doing your job, that's all. Making sure I got it right."

Arthur gulps. Oh. He's always known that he has a tendency to be difficult on people. He can be short and sharp. He doesn't always make people feel appreciated or good about themselves. He knows that.

"But chameleons?" An apology now seems pointless. He knows that if he says it, it won't come out sounding genuine, anyway.

"Used to visit them when I was younger when things got tough."

Arthur's stomach tightens. He shouldn't have asked. This is too personal for him. He doesn't do personal.

"Y'know," Eames continues, seemingly unaware of Arthur's discomfort. "I used to wonder what it was like to be able disappear like they do."

It's odd. To hear a grown man talk about feeling weak makes Arthur want to crawl into a hole and never come out. To hear Eames, who's probably the most confident and outgoing person Arthur's ever met, talk about being so self-doubting, makes Arthur want to cry.

This time, Eames seems to sense Arthur's ever-growing awkwardness, because he stands, wipes his hands on his trousers, and grins at Arthur.

"Come on, darling. Best get back to work." He places his hands on Arthur's shoulders and begins to guide him across the exhibit room. "You still have to help me get the accent down, apparently."

As they head back to warehouse, Eames keeps the conversation alive with light chatter and jokes, but Arthur still can't shake it.

"You do know that chameleons don't actually disappear," he says, when he can't contain himself any longer. "They just...well, they just blend. They're still there."

Eames gives Arthur a small smile. "That's not the point, darling. You've completely missed the point."

"Oh."

It's true. Arthur doesn't understand. Why would a man like Eames want to disappear? Or even blend in, for that matter?

Arthur shakes his head. This is personal stuff, obviously. Arthur doesn't do personal.

That doesn't, however, stop him from keeping an eye on Eames for the rest of the day. And sure as hell doesn't stop him from wondering what, exactly, it would take for Eames to be as self-assured as he pretends to be. And for a very brief moment, he wonders if it's not a 'what' that's needed, but a who.


End file.
